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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215309">Accidental Courtship</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crwoe/pseuds/crwoe'>crwoe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Annoying Jaskier | Dandelion, Bathing/Washing, Courtship, Crying, Dramatic Jaskier | Dandelion, Drunken Confessions, Eastern Bluebird Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Non-Explicit Nudity, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pining Jaskier | Dandelion, Raven Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roach is the Best (The Witcher), Swearing, Tavern Singing, Wingfic, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Ships It</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:28:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crwoe/pseuds/crwoe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier pouted at the lack of attention, feathers ruffling up more in displeasure and annoyance. Really, the fucking song was about him. The least he could do was pay attention.</p><p>(or five times Jaskier accidentally courted Geralt, and one time Geralt responded)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Singing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Jaskier is an Eastern Bluebird.<br/>Geralt is a Raven.</p><p>Not beta'ed, so let me know if you find a slipup!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>one.</p><p>“Another! Sing us another, bard!” the voice was met with a chorus of cheers and the sounds of mugs clinking together. Leaning against a table, surrounded by the rest of the patrons of the tavern, a smile curled the corners of Jaskier’s mouth. Snuggling his lute up under his arm, he pushed off of the table and snagged a mug of ale from the top of a table. Grinning roguishly at the man he’d taken the mug from - a white-haired and stern-faced fellow - he took a gulp before returning the mug and winking.</p><p>The man sat at the table stared back impassively for a moment, before grunting and reaching for the mug again. </p><p>Jaskier, meanwhile, strummed his lute as he weaved his way through the tavern tables and patrons. Recognizing the tune a few of the patrons had already begun roaring jovially and pounding their fists on the table.</p><p>“You’ve heard this one before! Let’s show a little appreciation for my-- the Witcher!” Jaskier called out, managing to smoothly move away from his little word slipup. Slowly, the bright blue wings on his back expanded. His feathers were immaculately groomed and shone with a silvery sheen in the candlelight of the tavern. As he neared the start of the lyrics his pace around the tavern picked up, legs skipping a sort of jig as he beat his wings to the beat of the song.</p><p>“When a humble bard graced a ride along with Geralt of Rivia along came this song…” Jaskier’s voice was matched by the tavern patrons, but somehow above the cacophony of song and lute and beating wings, his voice rang loud and clear.</p><p>His brilliant blue wings ruffled as he sang, the tips of his feathers gliding over the heads of the other patrons. Many had joined him, releasing their own wings to beat together in time with the song. The resulting draft snuffed out a few candles and may have knocked a few mugs of ale from the tabletops, but that only resulted in more rounds of raucous laughter.</p><p>“From when the White Wolf fought a silver-tongued devil his army of elves at his hooves did they revel…” There was one tavern patron who stubbornly refused to join the fun.</p><p>With wings firmly secured and hidden against his back, Geralt drank from his mug as his eyes stared off unfocused into the distance. Jaskier pouted at the lack of attention, feathers ruffling up more in displeasure and annoyance. Really, the fucking song was about him. The least he could do was pay attention.</p><p>“They came after me with masterful deceit broke down my lute and they kicked in my teeth…” Jaskier’s blue wings flared at the mention and memory of that day. Unconsciously he hitched his lute closer to his body, fingers not missing a string as he continued with the song.</p><p>Reaching the end of the longest tavern table, he jumped and used his wings to spin mid-air which was met with a chorus of cheers. Grinning, his gaze flicked to Geralt only to notice that the man was still staring impassively off into the distance. The grin slid off Jaskier’s face, replaced with a sharp glint in his eyes and a look of determination on his face.</p><p>“While the devil’s horns minced our tender meat and so cried the Witcher he can’t be bleat…” With each word he strode closer to the white-haired grump, fingers and wings never missing a beat.</p><p>The whole tavern, save for one, was singing along. The only one that actually mattered.</p><p>“Toss a coin to your Witcher o’ Valley of Plenty o’ Valley of Plenty o’!” Reaching Geralt, Jaskier flicked out his left wing sharply and tried to clip the back of his white-haired head.</p><p>Even with his gaze away from Jaskier, the Witcher easily dodged the swipe of his feathers. His yellow-eyed gaze lifted from where it had been fixed on the wall and instead turned to Jaskier. A smirk tilted up one half of Geralt’s face as he lifted an eyebrow at the bard.</p><p>Flustered, but without missing a beat, Jaskier grinned back at the man. At least he had his attention now.</p><p>“Toss a coin to your Witcher o’ Valley of Plenty o’!” An entire tavern of voices echoed the chorus, but Jaskier kept his eyes on Geralt. The Witcher rolled his eyes, but a contented smile graced his features.</p><p>That was a win, but Jaskier was always one to press his luck.</p><p>“At the edge of the world fight the mighty horde that bashes and breaks you and brings you the morn’...” Lifting a leg, he planted his foot firmly on the highest rung of the stool Geralt was sitting at. </p><p>He could see the man’s back twitch, wings just below the surface reacting to Jaskier crowding his space. Still, the Witcher didn’t push him away. Geralt ‘humphed’ softly, but otherwise allowed the bard to use his stool at a makeshift perch.</p><p>Blue wings expanded to their full width, feathers twitching as he flicked his wings in time with the music.</p><p>“He thrust every elf far back on the shelf high up on the mountain from whence it came…” The very tips of his wings, just the longest feathers, brushed across Geralt’s shoulders. This time the Witcher didn’t bother dodging, instead allowing it to happen as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the bard with a still raised eyebrow.</p><p>“He wiped out your pest got kicked in his chest he’s a friend of humanity so give him the rest!” His wings beat against his back, blue feathers seeming to blur with the speed of his movements.</p><p>“That’s my epic tale a champion prevailed defeated the villain now pour him some ale!” Jaskier paused, looking to Geralt expectantly.</p><p>The Witcher stared back.</p><p>“Don’t be a bastard!” Jaskier hissed, eyes narrowing as his gaze shifted rapidly from Geralt to the suddenly quiet and expectant crowd.</p><p>With a long-suffering sigh, Geralt reached for his mug of ale. Raising it towards Jaskier in a mocking salute first, he then tilted it back and drank it all down in a few deep gulps.</p><p>The entire tavern erupted into cheers. </p><p>Momentarily distracted by the movement of Geralt’s throat, Jaskier found himself staring for a few beats too long. Feathers ruffling, he tore his gaze away as pink colored his cheeks. He heard the sound of the mug landing back down on the table as his fingers picked the beat back up, moving double-time to make up for his extended rest.</p><p>“Toss a coin to your Witcher o’Valley of Plenty o’ Valley of Plenty o’!”</p><p>Rapidly strumming he added a little lute solo on to the end, cutting the end of the song short. Not that the tavern minded, most of them already drunk out of their minds.</p><p>Roaring their approval they’d already begun to literally toss their coins to the Witcher. Jaskier grinned at the silver and gold coins as he bowed low. </p><p>There was a snort behind him, followed by the whooshing sound of large wings being released from someone’s back. Tilting back up, Jaskier glanced behind himself to be met with a sea of inky blackness.</p><p>Geralt’s raven wings were fully extended, dwarfing Jaskier’s entire body. The tavern had grown quiet, hushed whispers the only noise. Most had heard about Witcher’s black wings, but few had ever seen them.</p><p>He tilted his wings forward, the black feathers brushing against the tip of Jaskier’s bright blue. At the contact Jaskier immediately ruffled, glaring at the Witcher despite the pink blush on his cheeks.</p><p>“Time to go, Jaskier,” Geralt stated softly, curling his wings back in against his back and beginning to walk away. For a moment Jaskier was flabbergasted, but he quickly picked his jaw up off the floor and grabbed two fists full of coins.</p><p>“Coming, coming! Wait up you big bastard! The whole point of the song was the coins! Or were you not listening again! For fuck's sake!” He shouted, stuffing what he could grab of the coins into his pockets and hurrying after his Witcher.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Preening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>two.</p><p>Geralt had left seventeen days ago. Not that Jaskier was counting.</p><p>One day here, and then the next day gone - poof. The big bastard hadn’t even mentioned he was leaving. That was typically what the Witcher always did, but that didn’t mean Jaskier couldn’t be a little bitter about it. At least he’d paid for the room above the tavern for the next few weeks. Not only did it give Jaskier a safe place to stay, but it was almost like an unspoken promise that he’d be back.</p><p>Or maybe that was just what Jaskier was trying to trick himself into thinking. In reality, he had no fucking clue when Geralt would pop up again, and he was more than a little upset.</p><p>All the way back on that first morning he’d woken up alone with all of Geralt’s things missing and not so much as a fucking note written. Jaskier may have gone into a panic when he’d realized Geralt was missing - not that he would ever admit that. After fluttering around in a tizzy and asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen a ‘big, white-haired, grumpy bastard’, he’d found a stablehand who confirmed that Geralt had taken Roach and left shortly before daybreak.</p><p>Well, at least the big idiot hadn’t gotten himself kidnapped or killed.</p><p>Satisfied that Geralt at least wasn’t in immediate mortal danger, Jaskier’s worry had abated and his feathers had unruffled. He had been left with just his anger and annoyance at once again being left behind in the dark, literally.</p><p>They were supposed to be travel companions. That had been the initial deal, at least, but it seemed like more and more the Witcher was going off to have his own adventures and leaving Jaskier behind like some kind of helpless wife or something. He was not helpless, thanks very much. Maybe a little… physically challenged and more likely to cut himself with a sword than he was to cut an enemy, but at the very least he was good company! </p><p>Or so he told himself.</p><p>He’d filled his days with pointedly trying to not think about Geralt. </p><p>He wasn’t very good at not thinking about Geralt.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>She’d had hair nearly as white as Geralt’s. Not that it had anything to do with what he thought, more like he’d just happened to notice it.</p><p>Not that he’d been seeking it out.</p><p>His face still burned where her hand had ended up after he’d leaned a little too closely into her space. It’d been utterly humiliating because he hadn’t even been thinking anything like that.</p><p>He’d just been thinking that she had hair nearly as white as Geralt’s.</p><p>Jaskier had been in the process of drawing a bath - all the better to wallow in his own self-pity - when the wooden floor creaked and two loud knocks sounded from the door. He knew that knock.</p><p>His wings flared out from his back, already puffing out as a plethora of different emotions overcame him. Happy, that Geralt was back. Mad, that Geralt was back. Embarrassed, about the way he reacted to Geralt being back.</p><p>You know, just the general set of emotions that seemed to always be associated with Geralt lately.</p><p>Stomping over to the door, Jaskier threw it open. His wings flared out wide and arched high behind his back. Crossing his arms over his chest he started to speak before even looking at Geralt.</p><p>“Look who finally decided to come back! Would it have been too much to leave a fucking note or something? You could have been dead! I didn’t know! What if you were dead? Do you have any idea--” He abruptly stopped when he caught sight of the Witcher.</p><p>For a fleeting, terrible moment Jaskier thought he’d been wrong. That, actually, Geralt was about to die. He felt his heart seize in his chest, and the look on his face must not have been a good one because the next second Geralt snorted at him.</p><p>Well, he couldn’t be that close to death if he was still being an asshole.</p><p>“You look like absolute shit,” Jaskier barked, trying to save face and act like he hadn’t almost just had a heart attack. </p><p>Geralt was covered in some thick, viscous, slimy black substance. It was smeared across his clothes and matted into his usually pristine white hair. No doubt it would also be clumping his feathers together, but for the time being those seemed to be held firmly and flat against his back.</p><p>“I missed you too, Jaskier,” Geralt joked, a half-smirk tilting up one side of his mouth. He moved as if to step forward and Jaskier hurriedly pulled back. </p><p>“Watch yourself, Witcher!” He complained, pointedly not looking at the stupid smirk on Geralt’s face. He jerked his wings back sharply, not wanting to get coated in whatever that slime was.</p><p>Geralt moved into the room, careful to step around the indignant Jaskier so as not to accidentally get muck on him. Now fully in the room, the Witcher paused, head tilted to the side slightly.</p><p>“Is someone here?” He questioned, taking a step in the direction of Jaskier. Jaskier flared back, wings slapping against his back to keep his precious blue feathers clean. </p><p>“No! Now stop moving!” He squawked, back-peddling away until his back hit the dresser and stopped his movement. “I was just going to take a bath an--” As Jaskier spoke, a thick glob of whatever the fuck was covering Geralt landed on the floor with a sick sounding squelch.</p><p>“You. Are. Dripping!” Jaskier shrieked, disgusted. “Get in the bath! Get in the bath immediately! What is that even? Did something eat you and shit you back out?” Horrified, Jaskier started trying to usher Geralt towards the bath using his hands, but while also desperately trying to not actually touch him.</p><p>“I’m going,” Geralt retorted, starting to step in the direction of the now full bath. “Stop screaming,” he huffed as his hands moved to start removing pieces of clothing.</p><p>“I’m not screaming! This is not screaming. Do you want me to scream? I can show you screaming!” Jaskier huffed, wings beating out of his back and then back in rapidly in his agitation.</p><p>Mostly, though, he was trying to distract himself from the sight in front of him.</p><p>From Geralt.</p><p>Taking off his clothes.</p><p>Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up in the air, angling his head to the side so that he couldn’t see Geralt. At least the Witcher was too busy carefully peeling himself out of his - ridiculously tight - clothes to notice the pink blush on Jaskier’s cheeks.</p><p>As his clothes hit the ground they made gross noises, which had Jaskier almost gagging.</p><p>“That sounds absolutely vile,” he complained, peeking a glance at Geralt. He was met by the sight of his broad chest covered in various scarring. He’d seen Geralt shirtless - even naked - before, but it always was a slight shock to see how marred his skin was.</p><p>His eyes trailed a particularly jagged looking scar that started around his lower ribs and went all the way up to his collarbone. There was significantly less muck and slime underneath his clothing, but in the areas where clothes hadn’t been covering him, he looked absolutely disgusting.</p><p>Jaskier forced his gaze away as Geralt’s hands moved to his pants. He waited, quiet for once, listening as more clothes hit the ground. Then there was the sound of splashing water as Geralt sunk into the bath. The Witcher sighed, and Jaskier moved towards the bath.</p><p>Geralt was seated in the tub, already attempting to scrub at his arms to rid himself of the substance he was covered in. The bathwater had already grown murky, despite him having just slipped in. </p><p>“It’s not poisonous, is it?” Jaskier asked, carefully walking around the pile of the Witcher’s discarded clothes.</p><p>“No,” Geralt answered, still scrubbing.</p><p>“Alright, then open ‘em up!” Jaskier demanded, striding up behind Geralt’s back. He impatiently tapped at Geralt’s back. “I know they’ve got to be just as disgusting as the rest of you,” He sniffed, trying to act nonchalant and calm the rapid beating of his heart.</p><p>Cleaning someone else's wings was… well, it was considered a little more than just a friendly gesture. This wasn’t the first time Jaskier had helped Geralt with a bath, but wings were another matter entirely.</p><p>The Witcher paused in his scrubbing, briefly glancing over his shoulder at Jaskier. Jaskier stared back.</p><p>“Any day now, Geralt,” he demanded, not breaking eye contact.</p><p>He hoped the big bastard would just do it without making it a big deal. </p><p>He hoped the bastard would do it at all.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t sure if he could handle another rejection today.</p><p>Geralt turned away without responding, but as he turned he released his wings from his back. The black feathers weren’t as dirty as the rest of him - he must have had them tucked during whatever fight he’d been in - but they definitely needed preening.</p><p>Jaskier settled himself behind Geralt. Reaching forward, he started by dragging his fingers through the inky black feathers, aligning the ones that were sticking out in the wrong direction. Next, he focused on pulling out bits and pieces of things that didn’t belong, little pieces of debris from whatever shenanigans Geralt had been a part of.</p><p>Then, wetting a cloth, he set to work carefully removing any of the gross muck and gunk from the Witcher’s feathers.</p><p>As he worked, for once Jaskier was just as silent at Geralt.</p><p>His own blue wings were spread wide. As he cleaned Geralt’s wings, his own started to move on their own accord and slowly began creeping forward as if reaching towards Geralt’s. He didn’t realize until the tips of his blue feathers brushed against Geralt’s back, causing the Witcher to hum and turn his head to look at Jaskier.</p><p>“Stop moving, would you?” Jaskier huffed. Embarrassed, he reached for Geralt’s chin and pushed his head back so he wasn’t looking at him. Geralt chuckled at that under his breath but kept his head facing forward and continued scrubbing at his body.</p><p>More time passed in silence.</p><p>Geralt had stopped scrubbing, his body finally clean. Jaskier, meanwhile, was carefully wiping the last of the muck off of the ends of the Witcher’s longest black feathers. </p><p>“Well, you’ve ruined my bath, thanks for that!” Jaskier muttered as he finished, pulling his hands away from Geralt’s wings and standing up. </p><p>His back was on fire from having been hunched over, cleaning the other’s wings. He reached up, stretching, his wings reaching up as well before folding neatly into his back.</p><p>“Let this be a lesson to you! You should have taken me and you probably would have avoided whatever all this nonsense was. But, no, you just leave me behind! You know, I thought we had a deal. A partnership, if you will,” he grumbled.</p><p>Geralt let out a long-suffering sigh. </p><p>“Oh, if anyone should be sighing it’s me!” Jaskier squawked, immediately on the defensive again.</p><p>“Jaskier, I’m sorry,” Geralt said as he stood and got out of the bath.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t know if he was more surprised by the apology, or by the sight in front of him.</p><p>When his brain managed to fire back up again after stopping, he quickly spun around on his feet and turned his back towards Geralt.</p><p>“An apology! Why, I think you may have grown a little since you’ve been gone, Witcher,” Jaskier teased, but really he just didn’t know how to respond.</p><p>Geralt huffed a laugh behind him.</p><p>“And I’m also sorry for this,” Geralt added.</p><p>Confused, Jaskier turned back towards the Witcher. “What’ve you gone and done no--”</p><p>Geralt’s muck covered shirt splattered against the front of Jaskier’s chest as he threw it at him.</p><p>Jaskier stared, shocked into silence, as Geralt laughed.</p><p>“You! Absolute bastard! You, I don’t even know why I--, you!” Jaskier screamed, only succeeding in making Geralt laugh more.</p><p>Swooping down, Jaskier grabbed the shirt off the ground and chucked it back at the Witcher. It struck him right in the center of his shirtless chest.</p><p>“There! That’s what you get!” He crowed.</p><p>His victory didn’t last long.</p><p>Almost quicker than he could follow, Geralt lunged forward and grabbed his arm before pulling and toppling Jaskier into the bathwater.</p><p>Spluttering water, he sat in the tub fully submerged in his clothes.</p><p>“I hate you,” he hissed, looking up at Geralt from underneath his dampened hair.</p><p>“I’ll get more water,” Geralt responded, lips quirked up in a smirk.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Feeding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, so, it's been a while! Sorry for the super long wait!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>three.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt dropped the bag he’d been carrying. It clattered to the ground with a note of finality. “We’ll make camp here for the night,” He stated, smoothly sliding off of Roach’s back and beginning to unstrap supplies from the mare’s saddle.</p><p>“Uh, here? Really?” Jaskier groaned, sliding off the back of his own horse and glancing around the area with arched brows. The ground was nearly solid rock, and although darkness had just fallen there was enough light to make out the edge of a cliff just a few feet in the distance. At their back was the edge of the forest that they had been traveling through.</p><p>It hardly looked like a comfortable place to sleep.</p><p>“Worried about missing out on your beauty sleep? If those wrinkles are anything to go by no amount of sleep will cure you,” Jaskier sputtered indignantly, whirling around to face the bane of his existence.</p><p>“It’s called having emotions, Yenn! Not that you’d know anything about that your heartless bi--” The wind was knocked out of him as a large pack was none too gently thrown into his chest.</p><p>“You’ve wounded me, Jaskier,” Yenn deadpanned, letting her hands fall from where she’d used them to push her pack into him. “Now, you can make it up to me by helping with my tent,” she declared, not giving him a chance to respond before walking away and expecting him to follow.</p><p>With a cough Jaskier recovered, glaring at the back of Yennefer’s head. “I hate you,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words. Clutching the pack tightly to his chest, he trailed after her and dropped the supplies to the ground where she directed.</p><p>The next few minutes were filled with more back and forth bickering, some cursing, and one stubbed toe before Yennefer’s tent was finally erected.</p><p>“Look at that, not as useless as Geralt always says you are,” She teased, patting Jaskier on the head before slipping into her tent.</p><p>Mouth wide in shock, Jaskier immediately whirled around to face Geralt who already had his hands up in a placating gesture. “You know I wouldn’t say that. She’s teasing you,” he countered.</p><p>Jaskier closed his mouth, a disgruntled expression on his face. “I hate her,” he muttered.</p><p>“No you don’t,” Geralt said, and Yenn echoed the same words from within her tent.</p><p>“No, I don’t,” Jaskier sighed, deflating instantly.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>The next morning Jaskier awoke to the sounds of birds. Crawling out of his tent, he stood and allowed his blue wings to stretch from where they had been tightly pressed against his back. Jaskier was normally very demonstrative with his wings, using them as he would any of his other limbs, but wings were a bit of a sensitive subject for Yennefer, and out of respect for her he tried to contain them.</p><p>As much as they riled each other up, there were actually friends.</p><p>Yenn was wingless, one of the side-effects of her transformation. She didn’t talk about it much, but it was obviously a subject of contention for her. Being wingless wasn’t regarded as a good thing.</p><p>Satisfied for the time being he carefully curled his wings back in and headed towards the extinguished fire at the center of their makeshift camp. Judging from the soft snoring from Geralt’s tent he was still asleep, and from the silence of Yennefer’s tent, she was either asleep as well or didn’t want to be bothered.</p><p>Jaskier had learned long ago not to poke his head into her tent uninvited.</p><p>He busied himself with making breakfast, first getting the fire started again and then beginning to prepare a meal out of what they had available. He was engrossed in his work, not noticing that Yennefer had emerged from her tent until she sat herself down across from where he was stirring a pot over the fire.</p><p>“I see your beauty sleep did absolutely nothing for you,” She started, grinning up at him devilishly.</p><p>“Yes, there isn’t much room for improvement,” He countered, lifting his hands from his cooking to gently pat at his cheeks. Yenn snorted in response, amused.</p><p>They fell into a companionable silence until a few minutes later when the silence was broken by the soft sound of rustling. Geralt’s tent opened, and he stepped out into the daylight.</p><p>Oh, and what a sight it was.</p><p>Hair down.</p><p>Shirtless.</p><p>Delicious.</p><p>Jaskier felt his throat immediately get dry, and, oh, was it getting hot all of a sudden? He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away, and against his control, his wings unfurled from his back in all their brilliant blue glory and spread out in a beautiful display.</p><p>A display.</p><p>Oh, fuck.</p><p>He instantly snapped his wings back in so hard he physically jolted his body. It had only been for a second, and Geralt hadn’t even been looking so he hadn’t noticed.</p><p>Face pink, Jaskier turned back to his cooking only for his gaze to land on Yennefer.</p><p>Yenn, who had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.</p><p>“Don’t you fucking say anything!” He hissed at her immediately, pointing at her threateningly with the spoon in his hand.</p><p>She laughed at him, loud and bright. “Well, that was enlightening,” she murmured once her laughter had subsided.</p><p>“Yenn, really, please,” Jaskier stressed, still trying to keep his voice down as he stared pleadingly at her. He wasn’t above begging at this point. He knew his own feelings well enough, but Geralt didn’t and Jaskier would very much like for things to remain that way. He’d never… well, he’d never given any indication of anything - which was fine! I mean, it sucked, but it was fine!</p><p>If Jaskier couldn’t have him in that way he would at least like to keep him as a friend. Without the horrible awkwardness of him knowing that… knowing that… Gods, he couldn’t even admit it to himself in his own mind.</p><p>Picking up on the seriousness of Jaskier’s tone Yenn sobered up, rolling her eyes. “I won’t,” she promised, gazing flickering over to Geralt who had donned some clothes and was now fussing over Roach.</p><p>Jaskier let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, turning his gaze back to the meal he was preparing. “But you should,” Yenn added, startling Jaskier so badly his wings nearly flared again.</p><p>“Yeah, right, that conversation will go over so well,” he muttered, pushing his feathers back down.</p><p>“You’re an idiot, Jaskier,” Yennefer stated, nothing but fondness in her voice. She stood and then gently patted his shoulder. “You don’t have to hide them, you know,” she added, gaze slightly off to the side as if she couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Jaskier. “I know why you’re doing it, and you don’t have to,” she added.</p><p>Jaskier gapped for a moment, at a loss of what to say before Yenn laughed at him again and took the spoon from his hand. Grabbing a bowl from the ground, she filled it before pressing the bowl into Jaskier’s hands. She took his position at the pot, stirring the contents, before giving him a soft push with her shoulder.</p><p>“Why don’t you bring that to Geralt?” She suggested, eyes dancing mischievously. </p><p>“Oh, I hate you,” he cursed, but there was no real heat behind his words.</p><p>Her laughter trailed him as he walked away, bowl tightly clutched in his hands, and wings slowly unfurling behind him. They remained relaxed, the sunlight glinting off of them prettily as he slowly made his way over to where the Witcher was fawning over his mare.</p><p>“Breakfast,” he declared, holding the bowl out to Geralt.</p><p>The Witcher turned, gaze momentarily flicking to Jaskier’s wings, before moving to his face, and then finally the bowl in his outstretched hand. He reached out and grasped the bowl, fingers momentarily sliding against Jaskier’s.</p><p>His heart rate skyrocketed, and his wings flickered outside of his control, but other than that he managed to control himself.</p><p>“Thanks, Jaskier,” Geralt said as he held the bowl, bringing it to his lips and tasting it. He hummed in contentment at the taste, a sound that did absolutely nothing to help Jaskier. His wings stretched out above him for a moment, before he regained control over himself and pulled them back.</p><p>“Ah, yeah, yes, welcome. You’re welcome, that is,” Jaskier fumbled, spinning on his feet and stomping back over to Yennefer who he could hear cackling by the fire.</p><p>“Did I miss something?” Geralt questioned, following behind Jaskier.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Jaskier and Yennefer both responded at the same time, causing a line to form before Geralt’s brow as he looked back and forth between the two. Deciding, rightfully so, that it was best not to get involved in whatever was happening he settled himself down next to Jaskier and continued with his breakfast.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Gifting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>four.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt was tense. Those unfamiliar with the Witcher wouldn’t have noticed, but Jaskier didn’t fall into that category of people. To the untrained eye, the Witcher looked powerful, untouchable. Dangerous.</p><p>But Jaskier could see the tension in his broad shoulders. Could see the way his steps were light and fleeting rather than his usual purposeful stride. Noticed the way his yellow gaze flickered from person to person - assessing the potential threat of anyone who drew too near. Jaskier couldn’t blame him, not after what they’d just been through, but rather than being suspicious he just felt exhausted.</p><p>It had taken them days to track down a surprisingly elusive kikimora. The journey hadn’t started well - which had definitely been all Geralt’s fault and not one bit Jaskier’s fault, thank you very much!</p><p>The Witcher had tried to sneak off again on this own like the giant, dumb, bastard he was. Jaskier may or may not have physically grappled onto his back like a monkey and repeatedly beat Geralt in the head with his wings. The details were hazy.</p><p>Jaskier won that valiant battle by not so valiantly threatening to sneak off and follow Geralt. They both knew he’d probably get himself into even more danger because Jaskier didn’t understand the meaning of the word “sneaky”.</p><p>Travel time had taken longer with Jaskier in tow. Again, Geralt’s fault, because he’d refused to move his big, <s>magnificent</s> ass and let Jaskier ride on Roach with him. Apparently she’d “get tired more quickly because of the extra weight” which - first of all, <i>excuse you</i>, but both of them knew Geralt was just being petty and punishing Jaskier for having forced his way onto this adventure.</p><p>He’d then tried to bring some levity to the admittedly tense situation with a little light singing, but Geralt had quickly shut that down. It had everything to do with the fact that Geralt was a bastard, and nothing to do with the fact that the noise would attract more monsters that they were desperately trying to avoid.</p><p>After a sullen and tense few days, they’d finally been ambushed by the kikimora. </p><p>Jaskier had only screamed a little bit.</p><p>Admittedly, he’d only screamed a little bit because he’d been thrown against a tree and knocked out cold about six seconds into the fight.</p><p>It’d been worth it for the way he’d woken up - not that he would ever, <i>ever</i> admit that. Not even under pain of torture.</p><p>It was a sight he was pretty sure only he’d ever seen, and he’d very much like to keep it that way.</p><p>Geralt’s eyes were black. In any other situation, it would have been unsettling, but when they were staring down at Jaskier with such worry swirling in their inky depths how could he be unnerved?</p><p>They also matched stunningly with the massive black wings that blocked anything else besides the Witcher’s face from Jaskier’s view.</p><p>Jaskier had blinked up at him, his own brilliant blue eyes still struggling to bring everything back into the sharp focus it usually was. Not at all because he was mind-numbingly lost in the dark eyes before him.</p><p>Geralt had huffed in a way that sounded like relief, and his fingers had then started poking painfully at Jaskier’s skull and completely ruined the almost moment.</p><p>From there the next half-day of travel had passed in a bit of a blur. It’d been quiet though, and tense in a different way from how it’d been tense before the fight.</p><p>The brightness of the market street before them, and the whirlwind of noise and commotions was grating on even Jaskier’s frazzled nerves - and no doubt it was ten times worse for the Witcher.</p><p>Jaskier may have felt, just a bit, responsible for the tension in those broad shoulders.</p><p>Maybe he shouldn’t have forced himself on this trip - something he’d only ever think to himself and never say out loud.</p><p>Feeling guilty, he allowed his gaze to stray away from the Witcher in front of him, and instead absentmindedly looked at the wares being sold around them.</p><p>His eyes caught a stall of rich fabrics, and his feet immediately changed direction and led him to the large stand.</p><p>Fingers itched to touch as he browsed the stand, his wings slowly unfurling from his back. Leaning forward, he gently brushed the tips of his feathers against a fabric that was almost the same blue he was.</p><p>It was beautiful but much too ostentatious for who he had in mind.</p><p>Instead, he turned his attention to a small area of black fabrics. There wasn’t much excitement, or even variety, there. Still, it was new and not worn. Clean. Two things alone that made it an upgrade from any of Geralt’s other clothing.</p><p>(Besides <i>those</i> pants. Oh, Gods, those fucking pants.)</p><p>He reached for the pile of black fabrics and shuffled through for a few moments before gasping out loud.</p><p>On the outside, the cloak was pure black, but on the inside…</p><p>On the inside was an almost hidden intricate design. It was done thinly, which made it difficult to perceive, but what made it even more difficult to pick up was the silvery thread it was made of. You needed to catch it at the perfect angle otherwise the threading was impossible to see. But when you did see it, and the light was just right, the inside of the cloak twinkled like the night sky itself.</p><p>Jaskier could get lost in it.</p><p>That was two things now he’d discovered that he’d never tired of looking at.</p><p>Well, at least if Geralt didn’t like it he could just keep it for himself.</p><p>It was an easy purchase.</p><p>Gripping his recent purchase tightly in his hands, he folded his wings back in and rejoined the bustling flow of pedestrian traffic.</p><p>You’d think it would be easy to pick out the Witcher in a crowd, but for a big guy, he was surprisingly - or maybe not so surprisingly - good at blending in.</p><p>Jaskier continued on in the direction that he <i>thought</i> the Witcher had been heading. After some walking he noticed the crowds beginning to thin around him and the city streets emptied out. The sun was also beginning to sink down below the buildings and it was difficult to make his way around the darkened streets.</p><p>It didn’t help that his head was beginning to throb - the medicine and magic in the tea that Geralt had given Jaskier this morning starting to wear off. He was distinctly reminded that his head violently met a tree at around this time only yesterday.</p><p>A particularly painful throb of pain had Jaskier stumbling against a nearby wall. One hand went to his temple, wincing as his fingers gently prodded the bruise on the left side of his head.</p><p>Where the fuck was Geralt? This was his reward for doing something nice?</p><p>Cursing under his breath, he pushed away from the wall only to stumble again after a few steps. Woozy, he closed his eyes and clutched the cloak to his chest. His wings flared out, bright blue in the darkness, and he tilted them out to help regain his balance.</p><p>Breathing heavily now, he took a few tentative steps with his wings acting as a counterbalance.</p><p>It worked for about ten more steps.</p><p>Another throb of pain and wave of nausea had his knees buckling underneath him. He tensed, preparing himself for the painful collision of his knees with the stone street.</p><p>It never came.</p><p>He was grabbed around the waist before his knees could hit the ground. In a matter of a second his face, mercifully the right side was pressed against the solid muscular mass of a deliciously familiar chest.</p><p>“Oh, hello Witcher. Nice catch,” he murmured, closing his eyes against the throbbing in his head.</p><p>“Here, got you a present. I’m going to sleep now,” he slurred as he pressed the cloak in his hands against Geralt’s chest. His head throbbed again, and he felt himself tip forward into unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier awoke to a gentle sway. His body softly moved from side to side, but he was held up by a firm pressure against his back and on the sides of his body.</p><p>It wasn't necessarily a bad way to wake up, but it wasn’t the best either.</p><p>He snuffled his way to consciousness. A wiggle here, a yawn here, rubbing at his eyes.</p><p>Blinking, he felt himself come instantly awake as the pressure at the sides of his body squeezed tighter.</p><p>“If you fall off I’m making you walk,” came a gravelly voice slightly above his right ear.</p><p>Jaskier's body immediately tensed.</p><p>OH.</p><p>This was <i>definitely the best way to wake up</i>.</p><p>His body relaxed, but he was much more conscious of every little point of contact between the two of them.</p><p>They were both sitting on top of Roach. Geralt sat behind him, arms and legs bracketing Jaskier to make sure he didn’t slip off the back of the horse.</p><p>More than that, Geralt had wrapped his cloak around his arms and had used the fabric to help cocoon Jaskier in place. And the inside, which was wrapped around Jaskier, had a pattern that twinkled light stars.</p><p>“Fuck you,” Jaskier replied merrily, a grin on his face.</p><p>Jaskier's body suddenly tilted towards the left, and he may have left out an embarrassingly high pitch shriek. His wings immediately flared out, hitting Geralt with enough force to cause the Witcher to let out an <i>'oof'</i> and slide off Roach’s back himself.</p><p>Unfortunately, wrapped up as he was in the cloak, Jaskier also found himself pulled off Roach.</p><p>He landed on top of Geralt, and they both lay there for a few seconds catching their breath before Geralt started to laugh and Jaskier started to complain.</p><p>Roach, ignoring both of them, continued on without them.</p><p>“You’re carrying me,” Jaskier said matter-of-factly, rolling off of the Witcher.</p><p>Before he’d even had enough time to get himself up he was swept up by Geralt and none-too-gently thrown over the back of the Witcher’s shoulder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Display</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>five.</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier was drunk. The level of drunkenness, you may be surprised to find, that he seldom allowed himself to get to. The bard enjoyed a good time just as much as the next person, but when he got too drunk his fingers got too slippery on the strings and he couldn’t play his lute. He would, of course, inevitably <i>try</i> to play, and as his fingers fumbled he’d become increasingly more distressed and pouty.</p><p>That was Jaskier’s current level of drunkenness. Past the fun giggly bits, and straight into the aggressive pouting.</p><p>“I’m broken,” he said morosely, gaze swimming as he looked up through his lashes at the nobles gathered around him. </p><p>Somehow, Jaskier found himself spending this evening at the court of Cintra, surrounded by stuck-up nobles who reminded him in the worst possible way of himself, which had led to his excessive consumption of alcohol.</p><p>That, and there were more than a few unfriendly faces in the crowd.</p><p>Jaskier may or may not have <i>’worked his way’</i> through some of the court members in attendance - much to the dismay of their significant others. There were some nasty looks being cast in his direction, and the alcohol had been his way of dealing with the hostility.</p><p>In hindsight, not his brightest idea.</p><p>Those who had surrounded the bard and demanded a song were pleasant enough, at least. They seemed to be at the point in the evening themselves where they found his drunken fumblings more entertaining than annoying. The more pouty Jaskier got about his inability to play the more entertained the group seemed to be as jovial laughter erupted whenever his fingers slipped and he produced an erratic note.</p><p>Despite his annoyance with himself, Jaskier could appreciate the group providing a buffer between himself and those who were less than happy to see his face at this ball.</p><p>Still pouting, Jaskier cut his gaze past the group of nobles surrounding him and up towards the head table. There sat Queen Calanthe looking uncomfortable in her formal wear and with an expression of annoyance that rivaled Jaskier's. To one side was her husband Eist, doing the schmoozing with the higher nobility seated at the table due to his wife’s inability to play nice. </p><p>To her other side, was the Witcher.</p><p>Satisfied that the “Lioness of Cintra” hadn’t sunk her claws or teeth into Geralt, Jaskier turned back to his adoring group of nobility who were more than happy to watch him fumble and fail at playing, and who seemed to be taking great joy in his mounting frustration.</p><p>Jaskier could take a lot, but despite how enthralled the group seemed with him there was only so long he could sit here fumbling his strings and being laughed at.</p><p>“Aaand, ta-dah!” He suddenly declared, nearly dropping his lute as he sunk into a low and theatrical bow. A few in the group clapped politely, but the majority of them were instead laughing behind their hands.</p><p>“If you’ll excuse me, I’m… I’ve… got to. Uh, outside… Err, I mean,” Jaskier fumbled over his words as he swung his legs out from the bench and stood up. He was unsteady on his feet, lute clutched tightly even in his drunken state lest he drop and damage it.</p><p>Giving up on explaining himself, the bard gave another sloppy bow before scuttling away from the group. A few of them called after him to come back, but Jaskier stumbled his way through bodies to put distance between himself and his <i>"adoring”</i> fans.</p><p>is gaze flickered from face to face, bodies blurring together in his drunken state. Someone tried to push another drink into his free hand, and automatically Jaskier grasped it and drank it down in three large gulps to the cheers or whoever had given it to him. He pushed the cup back into the hands that had given it to him, wiping alcohol from his chin with his sleeve.</p><p>It wasn’t until after he’d finished that Jaskier had realized what he’d done, and he groaned out loud.</p><p>Yeah, he was definitely way too drunk.</p><p>He needed to get out of here.</p><p>He needed <i>air</i>.</p><p>It was suddenly too stifling within the large room they were all gathered in. The air was thick as it went into his lungs, and he could feel his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. He made a beeline for the doors, stumbling drunkenly into more than a few bodies along the way. Most giggled, some grumbled, and one man actually grabbed his arm only for Jaskier to slip out of his grip and disappear out of the room.</p><p>He stumbled down a corridor, bumping into the walls and knocking more than a few framed paintings askew along his way.</p><p>Spotting a door he propelled himself through it and found himself in an outdoor courtyard.</p><p>He let the door shut with a bang behind him and took a few steps, gasping for breath and none too gently dropping his lute to the grassy ground. His fingers fumbled frantically as he undid the buttons of his doublet.</p><p>Finally, he could breathe again.</p><p>Jaskier’s wings unraveled from his back. They beat softly, creating a breeze that helped to cool him down and ruffled the leaves of the bushes nearest to him.</p><p>That had been completely unpleasant. It had been a long while since he’d had an episode like that, and he didn’t care to experience it again.</p><p>Still breathing more deeply than normal, he ran a hand through his hair and pushed his sweaty locks away from his face.</p><p>Jaskier, so absorbed with his heavy breathing, hadn’t realized someone approaching until the tips of his wings brushed against a body behind him.</p><p>He whirled around quickly - <i>too quickly</i>.</p><p>The ground shifted beneath his feet and he felt the uncomfortable sensation of falling, but just as he felt himself tipping past the point where he’d be able to stop himself, strong hands gripped his arms and steadied him.</p><p>“At least one of us is having fun,” Came a dry voice.</p><p>It took a few long seconds for Jaskier’s gaze to focus, but when it did he found himself looking up at Geralt who had once again come to his rescue.</p><p>“Too mush fun,” he slurred, blue wings stilling as he found himself entranced by the Witcher’s eyes. </p><p>He swayed on his feet but was held in place by Geralt so that he wouldn’t fall. He had an exasperated look on his face, but beneath that Jaskier could tell there was still a fondness in his eyes.</p><p>He could tell because he was still enraptured by those golden pools.</p><p>A frown line appeared between Geralt’s brows as the seconds ticked past and Jaskier said nothing more and barely moved beside his drunken swaying.</p><p>“Jaskier, are you alr--” Geralt stated, but abruptly cut off as Jaskier raised a hand and gently pressed his finger to Geralt’s forehead where the frown line was. He pushed with his finger, smoothing out the wrinkle.</p><p>“I hate that,” he said, surprisingly steady given his unsteady state and how unsteadily his heart was suddenly beating in his chest. “I hate that little line,” he muttered vehemently, pressing slightly harder with his finger before removing it and grunting contently when the frown line was gone.</p><p>Geralt’s hands tightened briefly on Jaskier’s arms, but then just as quickly he loosened his grip.</p><p>“I think it’s time for you to go to bed, Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice was slightly deeper than normal, but Jaskier didn’t notice because he was entirely distracted by the way the Witcher’s mouth twitched up into a smile.</p><p>He didn’t smile nearly enough, and each time Jaskier saw it he could feel something inside of him swelling up. This time it swelled so much it <i>broke</i>.</p><p>Mouth agape, Jaskier was helpless as his wings moved of their own accord. They stretched to their full length, blue feathers flaring out before arching high on his back. The blue feathers danced as his wings twitched, his colors on full display.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t stupid, despite what people may have thought. He knew exactly what he’d been doing over the past few months - he’d just been in denial about it. There were steps to this type of thing, courting, and he’d checked nearly all of them off.</p><p>He may have been able to push everything he’d done and all the feelings he had to the back of his mind, but his body - <i>his wings</i> - that he couldn’t stop.</p><p>Jaskier was in full mating display, mouth still agape as his own body betrayed himself in his drunken state, still stuck staring into Geralt’s golden eyes.</p><p>For a moment something flicked across Geralt’s face - so quickly that Jaskier didn’t know if it had actually happened or if his drunken mind had imagined it - before shutting down in an impassive expression that made it impossible to tell what the Witcher was thinking or feeling.</p><p>There was a proper response when it came to these things. Either you displayed back, or you politely declined. Geralt was doing neither, and as the seconds ticked by Jaskier felt his mounting mortification rising.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt started, but his voice was all wrong. It was the type of voice you used with a frightened animal. The type of voice you used with a child who had just hurt themself and was trying to figure out if they wanted to cry or not. </p><p>The type of voice you used when you were trying to <i>gently</i> turn someone down.</p><p>“Right!” Jaskier barked loudly, cutting off whatever else Geralt was about to say. His wings snapped shut against his back so quickly they jolted his body and caused him to wince - no doubt a few feathers had been displaced with that one.</p><p>He pulled himself out of Geralt’s grip and took a few hasty steps towards the door.</p><p>“Right! Well, I’m… I’ll be going, yeah. So, uh, I’m… sorry?” He mumbled with movements and heartbeat frantic as he tried to put as much space between himself and the Witcher as possible.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt tried again, this time his voice sounding so sympathetic that Jaskier felt pinpricks in his eyes as the telltale feeling of tears.</p><p>He would not <i>cry</i>.</p><p>Ignoring the Witcher, he pushed his way through the door and made his escape. He'd even left his lute behind - a sure sign of his current state of mind. His hands scrubbed against his eyes, trying to push the tears and his feelings back down where they belonged. Where they should have <i>stayed</i>.</p><p>Geralt could have easily chased after him, but he didn’t.</p><p>Jaskier was alone as he stumbled down corridor after corridor trying to find the damned exit to this castle.</p><p>He was alone as he bumped off of walls.</p><p>He was alone as tears began to blur his vision just when he pushed through the right door and out into the front of the castle.</p><p>He was alone as he made his way, blinded by tears and the darkness of the night, through the stables and as he picked a horse at random and reached for it.</p><p>It was Roach, of course, it was. Normally the mare was disagreeable, but this one time she went along peacefully as if she were picking up on Jaskier’s current state. He climbed onto her back, and allowed her to lead him out of the stables and down the road and wherever else she wanted to go.</p><p>Jaskier was alone when he finally broke, tightly gripping Roach’s reins as the tears finally flowed down his cheeks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Nesting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>six.</p><p> </p><p>Geralt closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. Jaskier had just stumbled his way out through the door, but the scent of him was still heavy in the air. He smelled like a fresh spring morning, right after a night of light rainfall. It was a heady scent on a normal day, but combined with the fruity scent of beer that was also layered on him this evening Jaskier smelled downright <i>delectible</i>.</p><p>Until the sharp, bitter smell of sadness had wiped out all traces of his natural scent and had sent Geralt’s stomach plummeting.</p><p>Eyes still closed, Geralt listened carefully and traced Jaskier’s path as he moved through the halls of the castle. He heard a thick sounding door - the stables - and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. He’d already paid the stable boy handsomely to ensure Roach’s comfort. That sum would no doubt also extend to Jaskier.</p><p>And if it didn’t, well, the flash of his dark wings and the grumbled threat of bodily harm should anything happen to Roach would no doubt cover whatever the gold hadn’t.</p><p>Jaskier needed space. Geralt knew the bard well, and no doubt he was searching from some lonesome place to lick his wounds and pity himself to sleep. Usually, Geralt left him to himself. Jaskier was the type to bounce back quickly enough, and Geralt wasn’t the best at <i>comforting</i>.</p><p>This time around was Geralt’s fault though, and that had never happened before.</p><p>Sure, they’d had squabbles. Who didn’t when you practically lived together?</p><p>This wasn’t a squabble. This was a <i>rejection</i>. </p><p>That, in and of itself, would be bad enough. It being Jaskier made things more complicated.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t handle rejection well, and this was a rejection of the highest order. A rejection of courtship wasn’t totally uncommon, but there were certain rules to these things.</p><p>Rules that Geralt would have followed, except his bard had been so drunk he just <i>couldn’t</i>.</p><p>When Jaskier had presented he’d had to bite down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood to resist his body’s natural urge to present back.</p><p>First and foremost Jaskier had been <i>severely intoxicated</i>. He was a lightweight on the best of days, but he’d really let himself lose this evening. Geralt had been watching - when was he not watching Jaskier? - and he’d drunk nearly everything that had been thrust into his hands.</p><p>They really needed to have a chat about poisons.</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t been in his right mind, and so how could Geralt have accepted?</p><p>Geralt knew where his feelings laid, and because of that he couldn’t take advantage of Jaskier like that. Despite what he wanted.</p><p>He wasn’t good with words - and especially not when it came to matters of the heart. He’d taken too long to try to explain himself, and Jaskier had rightfully gotten upset.</p><p>Geralt groaned in the courtyard, scrubbing a hand over his face.</p><p>This had all gone to fucking shit.</p><p>He took a minute, steeled himself, and began moving across the courtyard. Self-pity would get him nowhere. </p><p>Stalking towards the door he made sure to grab Jaskier’s forgotten lute as he moved past it. He exited the courtyard, but rather than going in the direction of Jaskier he went in the opposite direction.</p><p>He would fix this situation, it was what the Witcher did.</p><p> </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Geralt had tracked Jaskier’s soft footfall from the moment he’d first stepped in the corridor. He could tell, just from the sound of his footsteps alone, that Jaskier’s night in the stables had done little to improve his mood.</p><p>He’d kept an eye on Jaskier throughout the evening. Geralt <i>always</i> had eyes on him.</p><p>Roach had led Jaskier in circles within the entryway of the castle. The bard had either been too drunk or too heartsick to care.</p><p>It had been hard for Geralt to watch, but he’d made sure to check on Jaskier in between his work.</p><p>Eventually, after over an hour, Jaskier’s shoulders had finally slumped down in sleep. Roach had slowly brought him back to the stable, and that was how Jaskier had spent his night.</p><p>It took Geralt a few more hours after that to complete his project.</p><p>He’d almost picked Jaskier up and brought him to what Geralt had done, but in the end, he’d decided against it. The bard would still be emotional in the morning, and he wasn’t sure how’d he react to the knowledge that Geralt had carried him somewhere.</p><p>And so Geralt had forced himself to wait.</p><p>Finally, though, the waiting was over.</p><p>He’d given the stableboy a note to give to Jaskier when he awoke. It was a simple note, but it ensured no matter what that the bard would come here no matter his feelings. Geralt almost felt a bit bad about it, but desperate times called for desperate measures.</p><p>The note politely informed Jaskier that Geralt had his lute up in this room and that he could come to get it whenever.</p><p>A dirty trick, but one with a guaranteed success rate.</p><p>Jaskier would never leave the lute behind. A fact proved true since Jaskier was currently standing outside the door.</p><p>For a long time, he just stood there, and Geralt mirrored him on the other side of the door.</p><p>There was a bitter smell again - sadness.</p><p>Geralt opened the door.</p><p>Jaskier’s head, which had been staring at the ground, snapped up in surprise. Bags shadowed his eyes, their electric blue standing out starkly against the darker color. His eyes were rimmed in red. Whether that was from the drinking or the crying Geralt had no idea, but he didn’t ever want to see it around Jaskier’s eyes ever again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,”<br/>
“I’m sorry,”</p><p>They’d both said it at the same time. Geralt’s response was to blink in surprise, and Jaskier’s was to let out a mirthless little laugh.</p><p>“You don’t - you don’t need to <i>do</i> that,” Jaskier started. Words came to his mouth much quicker than Geralt’s, and each sharp one that he let out cut Geralt.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have done it, I was… I was drunk, and, ah, and,” Jaskier stammered, hand running through his hair in agitation. His wings crept out. Nowhere near a display, but rather a physical manifestation of his anxiety. They twitched against his back in an unsettling way.</p><p>“I didn’t. I didn’t - I didn’t mean it,” he choked out, cheeks bright pink and not even able to look Geralt in the eyes.</p><p>Geralt knew it wasn’t true - <i>he knew</i> - but that didn’t stop his heart from seizing.</p><p>Geralt wasn’t good with words.</p><p>His wings spread behind him with a soft swooshing sound.</p><p>For the second time, surprise colored Jaskier’s face as his gaze traveled to Geralt’s wings.</p><p>They were so large the longest of his feathers brushed against the ceiling. It wasn’t a display, not exactly, but Geralt didn’t speak with his wings nearly as fluently as most people did. To others, their wings were an extension of themselves. To the Witcher, they were something that made him a target - another part of his body that needed protecting. That fact that he even showed them at all to Jaskier was proof of his feelings.</p><p>Jaskier got over his surprise quickly again, but the emotion that replaced it was a surprise to Geralt. Anger.</p><p>Blue wings beat angrily against his back, his facial features twisting harshly and fire burning bright in his gaze when he turned it back to Geralt.</p><p>“I’m not a child, Geralt!” he bit out, throwing his hands in the air. “You don’t… you don’t need to <i>pretend</i> to pacify me! Gods, I just. I just don’t want things to be - to be, weird! I want to. We can just. Let’s just <i>forget</i>.” at the end Jaskier began to run out of steam. Anger wasn’t a good look on him, and it flowed out of his body quickly. By the time he’d ended his tirade, his wings and shoulders were drooping downward.</p><p>A noise between a growl and a swear lodged itself in the back of Geralt’s throat.</p><p>He wasn’t good with words.</p><p>He stepped to the side of the doorway.</p><p>Geralt’s body and wings had been completely shielding the room from view. Now that he’d moved, Jaskier had his first view into the room and what Geralt had spent all night doing to it.</p><p>Third time's the charm.</p><p>Jaskier's face colored with surprise once again, but this time there is a little bewildered disbelief mixed in. It’s, so far, the only facial expression that Geralt has liked. All the others had been too heavily tainted by sadness or self-loathing.</p><p>The large bed had been pushed into the middle of the room. All the rest of the furniture was pushed aside. The bed itself was massive, but it was what had been done to the bed that was most impressive.</p><p>Blankets, and pillows, and fabrics, and all other manner of soft and comfortable things had been piled. There was an artful type of arrangement to it, and multiple things catch the eyes at once.</p><p>That is a lot of stuff.</p><p>Those are some of Geralt’s dark feathers scattered within the mix.</p><p>Each and every piece of fabric on the bed is different, but they all at least have a little bit of blue somewhere on them.</p><p>The cloak that Jaskier had gotten Geralt was spread as a final layer on top.</p><p>For once, Jaskier can’t find the words.</p><p>His silence sets Geralt a little on edge.</p><p>“Is this alright?” He asked softly, voice hardly louder than a whisper. A feathered wing tilted down, the tip of it gently reaching out to touch Jaskier’s blue wings which had spread fully from his back.</p><p>“Is it okay he asks…” Jaskier muttered to himself in disbelief, but then he laughed.</p><p>It’s loud and bright and full of joy and it makes Geralt’s heart seize in his chest again but this time in the best possible way.</p><p>He turns the full luminescence of his smile onto Geralt, and then he can’t do this anymore.</p><p>With two purposeful strides he moves towards Jaskier. Not breaking his stride he grasps him around the hips and lifts him.</p><p>Jaskier yelps, wings flapping, but he also wraps his legs around Geralt’s body.</p><p>Geralt turns, walks towards the nest he’s created, and without any ceremony or warning tosses Jaskier into the middle.</p><p>The bard makes a very undignified noise, and Geralt grins.</p><p>He apologizes by following Jaskier into the nest, holding himself up over Jaskier’s prone body with his arms.</p><p>Geralt’s wings flank the two of them, completing the nest and creating a little private sphere of inky blackness.</p><p>Jaskier’s face, only a few inches away, is looking up at Geralt with so much open adoration he can barely stand it. He doesn’t deserve it - doesn’t deserve <i>him</i> - but he’s going to have it anyway and Gods help anyone who tries to take it away.</p><p>A shift comes over Jaskier’s face, his eyes lighting mischievously and his lips tilted up at one corner in a smirk. “Well, Witcher…” he starts, and Geralt knows something sarcastic and teasing is going to come out.</p><p>Geralt isn’t good with words.</p><p>He closes the distance between them, his lips pressing against Jaskier before he can get any more words out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaand it's the end! Thank you to everyone who has read, left kudos, and/or commented on this fic! It really means so much to me that you've enjoyed this as it's only the second work of fanfiction I have ever written. This is relatively short, but it took me a pretty long time to write it because I lose motivation really easily. A special thanks to everyone who left a comment and helped to motivate me to make sure I finished this fic. I'm hoping to write more in the future!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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